Southshore
by CerisePop
Summary: Mariella Wendell is the only woman on the Southshore Guard. Though the battle between Tarren Mill and Southshore wages, Mariella struggles on another front. As she fights to make her place among her fellow guardsman, an unexpected romance begins to bloom.
1. Chapter 1

Mariella Wendell had had a long day.

The young and somewhat petite, but tough raven-haired woman trudged up the hill leading away from the Murloc-infested shores that hugged the southern end of Southshore.

Immediately, the first structures of Southshore, mostly piers and fishing shacks, slouched into view in the coming darkness. Mariella had spent the entire day, from sun up to sun down, single-handedly running off the small gangs of Murlocs that continually attempted to set up small camps on the shores near town. This duty had been bestowed solely upon the unfortunate Mariella for the past several weeks and the Southshore guardswoman was growing increasingly resentful of the task. However, she held her tongue when around Sergeant Dean and carried on her orders obediently.

Now, exhausted and smelling like Murlocs, low tide, and a Goblin fish market she reached the top of the hill only to be confronted by Southshore's beloved Sergeant Dean.

Immediately, the guardswoman snapped to attention and saluted him.

"At ease, soldier," he said with a charming grin and wink. The sergeant's cheerful demeanor did nothing to improve Mariella's sour spirits. Slowly, she returned to her slouched and aching state, her helm tucked under her arm.

"Good evening, sergeant. May I assist you with anything?" she asked politely, tucking a lock of ebony-hair behind her ear. In doing so, she caught a whiff of her bloodied gauntlets and fought back a grimace of disgust.

"Actually, yes. I would like you to join me and some of your fellow guards down at the tavern tonight for a round or two of drinks."

Mariella was quiet for a moment, contemplating the offer. She couldn't decide what sounded better: a soft, warm bed to sleep away her aches and pains or a few mugs of some strong drink to wash them away. She finally chose the latter.

"Aye, sir," she said without thinking. The sergeant let out a warming chuckle that sent peculiar tingles throughout Mariella's battered body.

"That wasn't an order, Mariella. Come only if you wish to," he said with an easy smile. Mariella's cheeks burned and she nodded quickly.

"I do. I mean, I- uh… wish to come," she replied lamely, then hastily added, "Sir."

Mariella could tell the sergeant was holding in another chuckle for the sake of her dignity and only grew more embarrassed.

"Good, I was hoping you would. Now, go get cleaned up, my lady." With another wink, he turned away but not before chuckling and adding, "And _that's_ an order."

Mariella stood rooted to the spot, staring after her sergeant and feeling slightly dumbfounded by what had just happened. She liked the pleasant, feminine feeling that accompanied being referred to as 'my lady'. Hardly anyone addressed her in that way, usually she was just known as 'Wendell' by the other guards and 'Mari' by the few female friends she had.

Her mood slightly lifted, she stepped a little livelier as she made her way to the barracks' bath house.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oi! Wendell!"

"Oooh, my _fair_ lady!"

"Ye clean up nicely, Wendy! Who woulda guessed!"

Mariella laughed and grinned appreciatively at the raucous crowd of guards who greeted her upon her entrance of the tavern.

"You slay me with your jests, Wilkes," she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at her short and stocky fellow guardsman as she took a seat.

"I would've guessed it," came a familiar voice from behind her. Mariella turned to find the sergeant approaching their rowdy table.

"OI! You hear that, fellas? Sarge's had his eye on ol' Wendell-y!" another guard by the name of McGuire said loudly. At once, the table burst into a ruckus of laughter and pounding fists on the tabletop.

Mariella found her face growing hot again and dared a glance at the sergeant, but the sergeant didn't look embarrassed one bit. Instead, he laughed along with the rest of the men as he took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

Looking for a quick escape, she noticed most of them were already pink-faced and slightly tipsy.

"Looks like you boys have already started in on the spirits. I'll just go throw back a few to catch up," she replied quickly, before making a beeline for the bar.

With a flood of relief, she found that her close friend, Linda, was working as barkeep this particular evening.

"Evenin', Mari!" she greeted happily as she wiped down the surface of the bar. After a moment, she added, "What's got you all riled up?"

"Erm, it's nothing, Lind," Mariella replied, feeling her blush deepen. "I'll take my usual, please."

But, Linda didn't move.

"Oooh, is it Williem?" Linda asked, eyeing Mariella slyly. Mariella stared blankly at her for a moment.

"Who?"

"The handsome Sarge, you silly woman! Has all that Murloc-killin' made ya daft?" Linda cried, reminding Mariella that, of course, Sergeant Dean had a first name.

"Um, what gives you that idea? What does the sergeant have to do with anything?" Mariella asked defensively, not quite feeling up to a blatant lie.

"You mean, besides the fact that he's crazy about'cha?" Linda asked, as she set about preparing Mariella's drink.

Mariella was sure that if she had been drinking something she would've choked and was suddenly grateful for Linda's delay in her work.

"I-I'm sorry? I could swear you only just told me my _sergeant_ fancies me."

"It's true, Mari! He does!"

Mariella was quiet as she mulled it over in her head. Maybe…

"No. No, it's preposterous. Sergeant doesn't even like me. He put me on Murloc duty for goodness' sake."

"Oh, don't be stupid! I see him out there on the docks repeatedly in his spare time, watching you on the shores from a distance."

Mariella was shocked into silence by this tidbit of news.

"Really?" she croaked after a moment; her throat had gone very dry.

"Aye, Mari! Have you ever wondered _why_ he put you out there on the shores?"

"Well, _yes_. I assumed it was because he didn't like me very much and he believed I wasn't skilled enough to defend the city against the Forsaken forces. I thought it was simply a way for him to keep me out of his hair."

Linda thumped Mariella's drink down in front of her a little harder than she had probably meant to. The mugs contents sloshed over the top and splashed across Mariella's hands, the strong scent of alcohol tickling her nose.

"_Mari!_" she scolded. "That's ridiculous! Anyone with a brain knows you're a highly-skilled warrior! Otherwise, the Stormwind Guard would have never stationed you here along with the few select others they thought capable of defending the city to it's fullest!"

Mariella took a swig of her drink, feeling slightly reassured and flattered by Linda's outburst.

"I think the real reason he stationed you on the beach with the Murlocs is to keep an eye on you. Clearing out the Murloc camps is one of the easiest-"

Mariella started to protest but Linda continued on loudly.

"-and safest tasks in the Southshore Guard's line of duty. It isn't that he believes you _can't _defend the town, it's that he doesn't _want_ you to defend the town. Mari," Linda said, leaning on the counter to peer into Mariella's face," he _cares for you_. That's why he gave you those orders."

Silence reigned between the pair for a moment as they both stared one another down. Mariella finally broke the gaze to turn back toward the table.

As she did so, the sergeant glanced up and their eyes met. He smiled at her. Mariella returned it with a twitchy half-smile and turned back to Linda, her head spinning.

It couldn't be true. Herself and Sergeant Dean??

Never. He'd hardly even spoken to her before today.

Besides, he already had a woman of his own.


	3. Chapter 3

"GLLAAARRGLEGLARGLE- AGCCKK!"

The murloc hit the sandy beach heavily as Mariella's axe bit deep into its back. With a grunt, she loosened it from the now limp carcass glistening with sea water in the high noon sun.

Swiftly, she kicked at the small hut-like structure beside her. With a few more well-placed kicks, it gave way, the little wooden poles clunking hollowly as they fell.

Even though the Hillsbrad Foothills were a generally cool-climate region, the heavy plate and physical exertion kept up a sweat for Mariella and she found herself removing her helmet most days for a minute or two. The cool sea breeze felt wonderful against her damp forehead and neck as she shook her ponytail free.

Breathing in the refreshing, sea air, her headache cleared slightly. Drinking last night had been a foolish idea, only adding her head to the number of limbs and various body parts that ached as well.

Making use of her short intermission, Mariella attempted to stretch the painful twinges out of her by arching her back and rolling her shoulders, her thoughts drifting to the night before.

_Mari, he cares for you_.

Linda's words echoed continually through Mariella's mind, even now, when the guardswoman knew she should be concentrating on other things. However, she couldn't help but dwell on the fact that her sergeant had a certain interest for her.

After all, it truly was ridiculous! Mariella was hardly a looker compared to the rest of the town's fine maidens. Though most of the townspeople were lower-class farmer folk, a small percentage of them consisted of an aristocratic bunch all the way from Stormwind City. Mariella had been part of the militia company that escorted them from the city several months ago.

Sergeant Dean's lady also happened to be one of those sophisticated, upper-class women. Mariella couldn't quite recall the woman's name but she was among the prettiest and most finely-dressed of the city ladies.

Mariella was certain her chances with the sergeant were slim compared to the likes of a woman like that. Mariella was short and rather thin, and not quite so busty as the others, or perhaps it just seemed that way since she was normally adorned in masculine clothing or armor. Though she kept her long raven hair washed and clean, it was never nicely-styled or decorated with jeweled barrettes. Mariella knew she was just as plain, if not plainer, than the average farmer's daughter.

Then, there was the fact that Sergeant Dean himself was a charming and attractive man. He was tall and muscular with long chestnut hair that was usually tied back, revealing his strong handsomely-carved facial structure. His jaw was strong and his elongated chin sported a carefully-kept patch of brown hair that gave him a rugged, but well kempt look. The sergeant carried himself with a confident and authoritative air, but he was always open and friendly and never arrogant which earned him the respect and devotion of Southshore's citizens and his men alike.

The more Mariella thought of their differences, the more the idea of his attraction to her became ridiculous. He couldn't care for her; not like that. Perhaps, he only cared for her in a friendly way, maybe even a brotherly way.

Yes, that must have been it. He was only looking out for her as if she were his younger sister. Mariella's first instincts were correct. He only thought of her as a silly, young girl, incapable of protecting herself and the town of Southshore, which was practically under siege daily nowadays.

However, another tidbit of her conversation with Linda the previous night floated to the surface of her tired, slightly-hungover mind.

Linda had said the sergeant typically watched her from the piers in his few and precious spare moments. Immediately, Mariella spun on the spot, directing her gaze back toward the town. The edge of the pier was only just visible jutting out around the curve of the shore. Mariella could make out a small figure at the far end of the pier.

At such a distance, it was impossible to know the identity of neither the person nor what they were doing. It was foolish to presume the hazy dot at the end of the dock was Sergeant Dean.

_It's probably only a local fisherman._

Suddenly, the garbled war cry of several Murlocs split the air.

Mariella whirled around just in time to see a dark object hurtling straight at her face. An explosion of pain erupted dead center in her forehead and Mariella was only vaguely aware of falling backward onto the sandy beach.

A curtain of blackness quickly swept across her vision.


	4. Chapter 4

Mariella awoke in the dead of night.

Or so it seemed.

Her surroundings were dark but slowly her eyes adjusted and familiar shapes began to materialize around her.

She was at her sleeping quarters in the infirmary. Being the only woman on the Southshore Guard, Mariella slept in a small bunk area at the medical wing along with three other women. Two of them were medics and the other was a priestess.

Mariella's first reaction was to get up and seek out one of the three. Quickly, she pushed herself up, but a moment later she had dropped back, white-hot pain slashing across her left side and forehead.

Miniscule dots of light popped before her vision as her head throbbed painfully. Caressing her tender side, she let out a low groan of displeasure, a dull burn emanating from the apparent injury.

Mariella attempted to remember what had happened prior to waking up in her bed but all she could recall was standing on the beach and staring at the town docks.

With another groan of frustration and discomfort, she glanced in the direction of the door. Currently, it was open, a low flicker of torch light pooled on the floor. Straining her ears, Mariella could make out the distant sounds of a commotion somewhere in the actual infirmary.

Steeling herself against the impending upsurge of pain, Mariella forced herself out of bed with gritted teeth. Slowly but surely, she stumbled clumsily through the open doorway and down the dimly lit hall.

Pausing at the edge of the long, much more lighted room, she viewed the hectic scene before her. Four of the beds that lined the infirmary's walls were occupied by soldiers. Mariella recognized two of them as Wilkes and Dosier, however the other two were so caked with grime and blood she couldn't make out their identity from the semi-distance.

Both medics rushed about the injured soldiers with bandages and potions, crimsons stains smeared across their fronts. Then, Mariella's gaze settled on the large, imposing figure of Sergeant Dean fully armored and half-shadowed in the corner as he stood back from the frantic nurses. Just behind him stood his second-in-command, Greenweld. He looked pale and somewhat spooked, however, unharmed.

As she watched, the sergeant reached up to remove his helm. His expression was deeply serious and grave as he watched them at work. Loose strands of brown hair clung to his sweat-soaked forehead and dirt was smeared thickly across one cheek. He appeared to be bleeding from his right brow.

Mariella took a few shaky steps into the room, her own injuries paling in comparison to her fellow bed-ridden guards. Neither of the women seemed to notice her, but both Greenweld and Sergeant Dean looked up at her movement.

At once, Sergeant Dean's expression softened and he strode forward. Placing an arm around Mariella's lower back he began to steer her gently back toward her quarters.

"Mariella," he said softly. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

In a flash of defiant anger, she took several steps before planting her feet as firmly as she could on the cold stone floor. Due to the sergeant's strength, this resulted in her nearly falling on her face before he stopped at her resistance.

"Wait!" she said loudly, surprising herself with the volume of her voice. She felt like a naughty child who had been caught out of bed with a fever. This was demeaning. She had just as much right to be here as he. "What's happened, sir?"

He gazed down at her peculiarly.

"Do not be concerned with it right now, Mariella. You need rest. You've been-"

Mariella stamped her foot. A moment later, she was reeling in pain and clutching her side. With a weary sigh, Sergeant Dean began to usher her away again with his gentle insistence.

"You shouldn't be up."

"No!" Mariella cried, digging her feet into the ground once again. She attempted to push past the sergeant but he was too big for her in her weakened stated. "I-… want to-.. know- …what happened!" she grunted, throwing her weight against him futilely.

The mingled expression of mild amusement and concern on the sergeant's face only infuriated her more.

"What's happened to them?!" she cried in utter frustration.

Wordlessly, Sergeant Dean encircled his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground. Shocked and bewildered into silence, Mariella let herself be placed carefully over his broad shoulder.

"What..? What are you doing?! PUT ME DOWN!" she screeched as he began to tramp out of the room. Just before they turned into the hall, she noticed she had finally caught the attention of the two nurses.

Mariella tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but pain stabbed through her body with each movement. Finally, she resolved to lay still and instead continue her verbal assault.

"I DEMAND to know what's happened to my fellow guardsmen!" she spat at the nape of his neck. The scent of sweat and pure masculinity began to overpower her senses. "Um, sir," she found herself adding.

A moment later, they were back in her sleeping quarters.

With gentleness a man his size belied, he bent over and set her on the bed. For one heart-stopping moment, their faces were inches apart as Sergeant Dean leaned over her, one large, gloved hand on either side of her prone figure. Their eyes met and Mariella's breath caught in her throat.

Then, he was gone, standing upright and retreating toward the door as he spoke.

"Earlier this evening we received word there would be an attack on the western watch tower. I and most of the other men were stationed in and around the area when Greenweld arrived telling us the eastern tower had been ambushed. By the time we arrived, the bottom of the tower had already been infiltrated." He paused in the door frame, his back to her.

"No men were lost, but several were injured. Those who you just saw in the infirmary are the worst off." His head was turned to the side, allowing Mariella to just make out his handsome profile in the clinging darkness. He looked ominous in the flickering, barely-there torchlight of the hall.

"Good to know," Mariella replied coldly. "Now, I'd much rather be out there helping Connie and Annette tend to the injured men and I would also prefer _not_ to be treated like a child." Mariella made to get out of bed, pushing her hair behind her ears and realizing for the first time that her hair was slightly damp.

"No," Sergeant Dean said, stepping through the doorway and turning to face her. "As your sergeant, I order you to stay in bed and get some rest. Otherwise, that gaping hole in your side will never close up."

With that, he swung the door closed behind him, casting Mariella in complete darkness; the only sound the sergeant's boots clumping heavily as they faded down the hall.


	5. Chapter 5

Mariella crumpled the written orders in her palm, hot anger and humiliation pumping through her veins like a fiery poison.

Corporal Greenweld withered slightly under her glare.

"Sir," she said quietly, fighting to keep her voice low and level. "These… _orders_ must be mistaken."

Even as she said it, she knew they were no mistake. The sergeant had truly put her in charge of watching the stables, which was an entirely ridiculous and unnecessary post within the town limits.

Slowly, the corporal shook his head.

"No mistake, Wendell. These are your new orders," he said gravely. Though Greenweld was young, he had a glum sort of demeanor about him at all times with his dozy eyes and sallow face. At the moment, his indifference made Mariella want to strike him across the face.

"Sarge did mention you might react this way…" Greenweld muttered, shifting on his feet. Mariella blinked at him.

"Sarge..? The sergeant said I would-" Mariella stopped mid-sentence, pursing her lips together. "Sir, may I ask of the whereabouts of Sergeant Dean?"

Greenweld looked unsure of himself, eying her cautiously.

"The sergeant's rather busy, Wendell…"

"Corporal Greenweld, sir, I intend to speak with the sergeant on imperative matters. I wish to know of his whereabouts," Mariella replied through gritted teeth.

Greenweld let out a long, drawn out sigh before pointing in the direction of the town hall.

"Thank you, corporal sir."

Mariella threw him a crisp salute before striding off to the town's second biggest building, aside from the military training hall and armory.

As the guardswoman approached, she saw the sergeant and another man, elderly and wearing jeweled magistrate's robes, conversing. Neither looked happy.

Several moments passed before the sergeant made a stiff inadequate bow and turned coldly away from the man. The man looked outraged and opened his mouth to call after the retreating sergeant but then thought better of it, stalking off in the opposite direction.

Sergeant Dean appeared troubled as he neared Mariella and he was so deep in his thoughts that he nearly walked straight past her.

"Greetings, sergeant," she said, quickly saluting him. He halted, looking startled for a moment. The pair stared at one another for half a second before the tense look on his face faded and he allowed her a tentative smile.

"Afternoon, Mariella," he replied politely, stepping up to face her. Mariella's anger abated slightly as she subconsciously considered their height and stature difference. "I'm very glad to see you are well."

"Sir, I-"

"Lady Roslynn is a skilled healer, I knew she'd have you patched up in no time."

"Indeed, sir, but I'm here to-"

"Are you entirely healed? It's only been a couple of days. Perhaps you should have her take a look at the injury, to be sure it's completely closed up."

"Sir, I'm quite alright. The wound wasn't that grievous. I wished to speak with you ab-"

"Nonsense, that Murloc nearly ran you straight threw with a spear! The more I think of it, the more shocked I am that you've healed so quickly."

Sergeant Dean was clearly avoiding the subject.

"_Sir_, if I may _please_ bring something to your attention," Mariella said forcefully, brandishing the crumpled orders in her hand. Immediately, the sergeant's charade fell and he looked more tired than she'd ever seen him. However, her anger was quick to blot out the faint inklings of guilt.

"Sir, the stables," she stated, wincing as if the phrase stung her.

"Mariella," he began, running a hand through his hair which hung loosely for a change.

"I am capable of defending this town, sir. Protecting the horses is hardly a noble task for a select member of the _Stormwind _army," she said, knowing she sounded painfully arrogant but her anger coursed powerfully through her, ceasing her better judgment.

"Mariella, you're injured. I'm not about to place you back out on the beaches and I'm certainly not going to toss you into the midst of battle."

"But, sir," she whined. "Four of your men have far more severe wounds than I and I am quite certain that as soon as they're healed, you'll have _them_ back out on the fronts! Not sitting around baling hay and feeding horses!"

"It's different with them, Mari! They're older, much more seasoned fighters! You're only a young lady who has yet to-"

The sergeant fell silent at Mariella's shriek of derisive laughter.

"That's it! That's it, isn't it?!" she asked, her voice shrill.

Sergeant Dean stared at her in bewilderment.

"You misunderstand me-"

"_I_ misunderstand _you_? I find it is the other way around, _sir_," she hissed, her last word dripping with mockery. Mariella chose to ignore the hurt expression on his face. "I can't believe it! I was right! All this time, _I_ was _right_. You think of me as just some foolish little girl who learned some swordplay from her father and enlisted in the Stormwind army for fun! Am I right?" she asked loudly.

By now, her raised voice had attracted the attention of most passersby.

Sergeant Dean began to protest.

"No! No, that's not the case at all, Mariella! I know you are skilled! Skilled beyond several of my men! I received records of each soldier that was being transferred prior to their arrival. Believe me; I know of what you have accomplished!"

"Oh, well Light forbid, you're right! Recommendations from the Captain of the Guard himself mean nothing and I should obviously be stuck in the stables instead of defending our lands! I'm absolutely worthless to your army!"

"You know that's not true! And perhaps I should remind you that you are speaking out against a superior at the moment. I'd advise you to watch your tongue, soldier," Sergeant Dean replied sternly.

Mariella had never heard her sergeant use his seniority against anyone before and she couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed of her behavior. However, she had a tendency to let her anger overtake her and she found that she couldn't control her tongue one bit.

"A superior?! Really? Hardly a worthy sergeant! Wasting useful defenders on scrubbing horses when they could be-"

"I'm warning you, Wendell-"

"And what will my punishment be? New orders to count flour sacks at the general store? As Sergeant, you don't even have reasonable judgment when handing out orders to your soldiers! Well, you know what?! I think you can take my orders and just stick 'em up y-"

"I have a damn good reason for _every_ order I send out! I apologize deeply for not having shared my every thought with you on the subject, Wendell!"

"Well then, let's hear it now! What's your reason for sending me to the stables?!"

The sergeant was quiet for a moment, an indistinguishable emotion passing across his weary visage.

"What's your reason?!" Mariella cried desperately. "Am I being _punished_ for something??"

"Not yet, you aren't," he replied icily. "As of right now, I'm ordering you to go the stables. You will wait there for further instructions."

In a fit of childish rage, Mariella shredded the orders with shaking fingers and cast them into the air. Silence reigned for several moments as bits of parchment fluttered around them, slowly descending to the muddy earth like freakish mid-summer snow.

"Well, if you need me for shining your shoes or perhaps cooking up a meal for your men, I'll_ be there_ shoveling hay and whatever comes out of your horse's _ass_," she spat acidly, before whirling around and stamping off to the eastern edge of town where the horse stables stood alone.

Mariella knew she would be punished severely for her insubordination but right now, she didn't give a damn.

The only thing she cared about at the moment was proving her worth to the citizens, the army, and the sergeant of Southshore.

And partly, her father.

However, accomplishing this didn't seem likely in her current situation.


	6. Chapter 6

Pausing in her work of shoveling, Mariella adjusted the rough straps of linen tied across her palms. She winced as the fabric chafed against her blistered hands. The guardswoman frowned to herself, noticing the dark scarlet stains pooling at the centers of the dirty hand-wraps.

Mariella had been correct in her assumption of punishment for her behavior. Initially, her duties had only consisted of standing guard at the stables, not actually participating in any manual labor. However, now as part of her retribution, she was to clean up and help out around the stables as well as complete other odd and decidedly troublesome jobs around the town, as well as the armory hall where she was forced to polish every single weapon and piece of armor nightly.

Though it was Greenweld who reported her various tasks to her, Mariella was sure this was part of Sergeant Dean's personal spite toward her parting words. Their heated exchange outside of the town hall had been over two weeks ago and she hadn't seen the sergeant since.

Linda let out a noisy yawn.

"This is dull. I feel for you, Mari. It's no wonder yeh've looked like hell the past couple o' weeks," she said, picking absentmindedly at the sleeve of her dress.

Linda and Roslynn, Mariella's priestess bunkmate, were keeping Mariella company whilst she worked in the stables. Mariella hardly saw anyone, besides the crotchety old stable owner on occasion, during the day.

While she shoveled and swept dirt and stray hay out of the way, the other two women leaned lazily on one of the stall dividers inside the stables. Presently, all of the shutters stood open to let in the cool, fresh, breeze blowing down through the Alterac valley.

Mariella merely let out a huffy sigh, too distracted to bother with a sarcastic 'thank you' for Linda's comment.

"Then again, you _were_ the one who had to open your big mouth and start yellin' at the poor man. It's obvious he does this just because he-" Linda began, lazily examining her enviable un-blistered hands.

"Linda, _please_," Mariella said warningly.

Linda shrugged.

"Only pointing out the obvious."

"Which is?" Roslynn asked, arching a brow so pale one could barely tell it was there. Glancing up, Mariella noted that Linda and Roslynn stood beside one another looking like polar opposites. While Linda was a full-figured brunette barmaid, Roslynn was a thin, flaxen-haired priestess. Even their posture differed greatly: Linda was slouched casually over the divider wall, Roslynn next to her with posture so brisk and upright it was nearly military-like.

"Don't bother," Mariella replied simply.

"She doesn't believe me, Ros! I swear it's true," Linda piped up.

"Doesn't believe what? What's true?" Roslynn asked, glancing between the other two women in confusion.

"Sergeant Dean has it bad for Mari!"

"Look, Linda, just stop it! You're being foolish," Mariella said grumpily hefting another clump of hay with her rusty shovel.

"Sergeant Dean and Mariella?" Roslynn mused, tapping her chin and looking at the stable roof as if it held divine answers to life's most difficult questions. "I could understand that assumption," she said after a moment.

Mariella nearly dropped the shovel as she gaped at the priestess while Linda let out a triumphant 'Hah!'.

"Ros, it's ridiculous! How could the sergeant find me desirable compared to his own lover?"

"You mean Lady Lorraine?"

"Yeah, ol' Lady Whatsherface," Linda interjected, crinkling her nose. "Miss Moneybags has been practically attached to Williem's hip the past few weeks."

As much as she hated to admit it, Mariella could feel the faintest traces of jealousy welling up inside of her.

"Well," Roslynn said quietly. "I can't be certain as far as attraction to you, Miss Mari, but I am certain he cares for you. You should have seen him the day he brought you in after those Murlocs caught you off guard."

"I'm sorry, what?" Mariella asked, straightening up to stare wide-eyed at Roslynn.

The fair-haired priestess blinked at her.

"I said, 'You should have seen him when he brought you in from the Murloc attack.' He was soaked from head to toe- the both of you! He said the Murlocs had nearly dragged you to the bottom of the sea by the time he got to you! The darling man jumped right into retrieve you from those scaly-fiends!" Roslynn replied dramatically, her eyes comically wide and child-like.

"Sergeant Dean… saved me?" Mariella squeaked.

"Oh yes, Miss Mari! Very lucky he did! You're very lucky _anyone_ did! I expect he must've been near the fishing pier and saw the whole thing! Otherwise, who knows what would've happened to you!"

Mariella swallowed hard, glancing at Linda and fully expecting and deserving the smug 'I told you so' expression she wore.


	7. Chapter 7

Outside, the high noon sun shone bright upon the town but, inside the windowless armory, it was dark as night. The sputtering feeble torches were all that filled the dark corners of the hall.

Mariella could hear voices coming from the far end of the corridor where the door to the sergeant's quarters stood open. One of the voices was deep and warm while the other was high and obviously feminine. As Mariella's footsteps grew nearer, the voices ceased.

Feeling slightly intrusive, the guardswoman nearly turned back, but at that moment, someone emerged from the doorway.

It was a woman, dressed in a breathtaking gown of sapphire blue that hugged and accentuated her voluptuous figure almost painfully to Mariella's eyes. Her hair was golden and pinned up in a fancy twist, loose curls framing her exquisite face softly.

In short, she was a beautiful lady. Mariella couldn't help but feel slightly awed by her lavish appearance. After all, Mariella herself was from humble beginnings.

They stood, quietly surveying each other for a long moment before the other woman spoke.

"Williem," she said loudly. Her voice had a drawl to it that Mariella had only ever heard in the upper-class society of Stormwind. "I think your maid is here," she said, smiling nastily at Mariella before sweeping past her.

Mariella stood rooted to the spot, floored by the woman's rudeness. As she passed, leaving a flowery scent in the air and a bitter taste in Mariella's mouth, the guardswoman came to recognize her as Lorraine. She was the sergeant's lady.

There was the scuffing of leather boots against stone and Sergeant Dean appeared in the hall, pulling a shirt down over his head.

Mariella's cheeks grew warm as she glimpsed the hard-cut muscle before it disappeared beneath the worn cloth of his tunic. Somehow, she regained her senses quick enough to remember to salute the sergeant.

He eyed her warily, as if she were some sort of Gnomish time bomb.

"I suppose you're here about your new orders," he said, finally.

Mariella shook her head slowly.

"Actually no, sir, I'm here to-" Mariella blinked at him, his words suddenly registering in her reeling mind. "What new orders, sir?"

"The ones I issued to you this morning. Surely, Greenweld has given them to you by now," he replied, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe. His hair hung loose again.

"I received nothing from the corporal, sir," Mariella replied truthfully.

After a moment, the sergeant turned and walked back through the doorway, motioning for her to follow. Mariella hesitated, then hurried after him.

The sergeant's quarters were large and roomy but predictably vacant of personal belongings. The only part of the room that really looked lived in was the bed, which appeared to have been only recently vacated. Mariella felt herself blushing again. She could only imagine what sort of activities had taken place in it just prior to her unannounced arrival.

The sergeant rummaged noisily through the drawers of a study desk that stood beneath the only window in the room. The curtains had been drawn shut against the harsh sunlight.

Finally, the sergeant returned to her, a large roll of yellowing paper clutched in his fist.

"What's this?" she asked as he offered it to her.

"A map," he replied. "Of Hillsbrad. You'll need it when you do your escorts for the first couple of rounds," he added when she continued to look puzzled.

"Escorts?" she asked, unable to hide her excitement.

Sergeant Dean nodded, smiling at her for the first time since their last unhappy encounter several weeks ago.

"We have a lot of traffic coming and going from Southshore on a daily basis. Most of them are farmers and miners that leave the town headed for the Fields and Azurelode Mine just for a day's worth of work. Many of their families, and a few themselves, have approached me with a request for an escort to guard them on their daily trips. Due to the increase of risk in venturing outside of the city limits, I've decided it best to grant these people the protection and reassurance they've asked for."

"You mean…?" Mariella trailed off, sounding hopeful.

He merely nodded again, a half-smile still playing at his lips as he spoke.

"Starting tomorrow you and Kennon will be accompanying the farmers, miners, and various travelers to their desired locations. Depending where these are, you will be required to stay with them until they've reached reasonable sanctuary or until they need to return to town."

"Oh, thank you, sir! I swear I'll do my best to protect them! I won't let you down!" Mariella replied earnestly. At last, she had been given a worthy task. But, something wasn't right…

"Sir, are these people truly at high risk? The forces from Tarren Mill hardly ever stray as far east as the Mines."

At this, the sergeant shook his head, rubbing tiredly at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

"It isn't the Forsaken that we're guarding them from. Recently, we've had an upsurge of activity in the Syndicate. They've been attacking and pillaging nearly every caravan we send out to the mines and elsewhere."

Mariella nodded.

"I see."

An awkward silence reigned for several moments, in which Mariella became painfully aware of the fact that she was standing so very close to her handsome, un-armored, sergeant in his personal living quarters.

"I, uh-" Mariella stammered, casting around for anything to say to distract herself, and hopefully the sergeant, from her obvious blush. "I best get back to the stables, then, sir."

"You are forthwith relieved of your stable duties," he said. "You do not have to return if you wish."

Mariella blinked, growing panicky as her mind processed the many possible intentions and meanings of the sergeant's reply.

"I- I, um- I do, sir! I really, really like it in the…uh, horse stalls," she stuttered. "Stables! Stables, I meant! I love the stables!" she finished, her voice high-pitched and her cheeks burning bright pink.

Sergeant Dean looked on the verge of laughter.

"I see. I was unaware you were so passionate for your work," he replied playfully, a handsome chuckle escaping his lips.

"Oh, I am, sir! Very passionate! I live to fulfill your commands, ha ha!" Mariella exclaimed, feeling more foolish by the second. "Um, permission to be dismissed, sir?" she asked or rather nearly pleaded.

"Permission granted. Don't overwork yourself in there, soldier," he said, grinning with clear amusement.

"Thank you, sir! Good day, sir!" Mariella squeaked, quickly saluting the sergeant before darting from the room.


	8. Chapter 8

_Crrr-unch._

Private Kennon sat lazily against the fence post, munching happily on his crisp apple. The skies were beautiful: bright blue and not a cloud in sight.

Squinting up in to the sun, Kennon smiled slightly as he chewed, drumming his fingers against the helm in his lap to the beat of some unheard song.

Mariella stood stock still, shoulders back and chest out, one gloved hand resting on the hilt of her blade.

"Y'know," Kennon said through a mouth full of apple. "Th'o esh'co thin' i'nt sho bad. No's dan'erous tho'd be."

"Pardon?" Mariella asked, not taking her eyes off of the men at the bottom of the hill. They picked bushel after bushel of apples. Their loud voices and laughter echoed up the grassy knoll to where the pair of guards stood watch. Or in Kennon's case, slouched. And ate.

Kennon squinted up at Mariella's rigid form.

"You must be hot," he said, motioning to her helm. She was relieved to hear he had swallowed this time. Mariella shifted uncomfortably. To be honest, she was dying to remove her helm. But personal comfort was out of the question. Besides, after the murloc incident, she wouldn't be making that mistake again.

"No, I'm fine," she replied stubbornly.

Kennon bit into his apple again.

"Why don' you si'down?"

Mariella fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"I was given the duty of watching over these men. I'm not letting my guard down for even a second," she replied, standing up even straighter as to prove her point. Though the pair of watchmen were two weeks into their escorting duties, Mariella had not faltered in her disciplined manners. Not even for a second did she want to relax.

_Constant alert is what does a guardsman well_, her sergeant back in Stormwind had said again and again. Mariella always took all of his directions to heart.

Kennon was silent for awhile as he snacked noisily on the piece of fruit in his hand. Below, the apple-pickers had moved off to another section of the orchard, though still visible from the top of the hill. A bead of sweat rolled down Mariella's left temple as she blinked against the harsh sunlight.

"Is it true? That you were trained in Stormwind?" Kennon asked suddenly.

"Yes."

"I've never been to the big city m'self. Born and raised right here in the foothills!" he said proudly, throwing an arm out to motion to the surrounding hills. "But I was shipped off to Refuge Pointe in the Arathi Highlands for trainin'. Then, they sent me to Southshore to serve under the command of good ol' Sarge."

Mariella remained quiet so Kennon continued talking.

"I bet Stormwind's really great. I heard the women are beautiful as the mornin' sunrise. If any of 'em look anything like that Lady Lorraine-" Kennon let out a low whistle, Mariella flinched. "Sign me up for the next caravan to the city!"

"There's a lot more to the city than snotty, corset-wearing, twits," Mariella snapped, her temper flaring up. Kennon raised his eyebrows up at her. His bandy legs were sprawled comfortably on the grass.

"You're right! I heard they've got the best pubs! I heard a couple o' the boys back at the barracks goin' on about some place called the Pig 'N Whistle. Said somethin' 'bout a dancin' barmaid and the cheapest drinks 'round!" he cried, throwing his hands in the air excitedly. One hand still clutched the eaten apple core.

"_Men_," Mariella muttered under her breath. She watched Kennon hurl the apple core behind them from the corner of her eye.

One of the farmers started up the hill toward them.

"We're about finished here!" he called, pausing halfway. "We'll be packed up and out of here shortly!"

"Alright! Let us know when you're ready, then!" Mariella yelled back. The man nodded and headed back down the hill.

She glanced down at her partner.

"Would it kill you to stand up? These men are supposed to feel protected by us," she grouched at Kennon, returning her gaze to the workers below.

Kennon only shrugged as he stared up at the sky. It was almost blindingly blue to Mariella.

"Looks like to me you've got a pretty good handle on all the standin' and the protectin' and whatnot," he replied dozily with an audible yawn.

_How in Light's name did this man make it through training?_

"Word is you and the Sarge've been sneakin' 'round together. _That _true?"

Mariella almost choked on her own spit.

"Of course not, no!" she balked, whirling around and practically diving on the lazy guardsman. He recoiled himself against the fence post, startled by her explosive reaction.

Her cheeks were on fire. She had never been so embarrassed before in her life. How was _anyone_ going to take her seriously if they all thought the sergeant was _bedding _her?!

"By the Light, all you men must gossip like _schoolgirls _in your 'racks at night!" she cried dramatically, throwing her hands in the air.

"Alrigh', alrigh'! Just askin'! Heard some talk and I wanted to know if it were true, nothin' serious, Wendell," he said, relaxing slightly. But, Mariella wasn't ready to let this die so quick.

"From who? Who was talking?!" she barked.

Kennon looked unsure of himself for a moment.

"Some o' the boys and that busty barmaid... let's see... Linda, think her name was," he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

Mariella's jaw dropped.

That nosy cow and her loud mouth...

The guardswoman's fingers twitched, itching to close around her meddling friend's throat. She was going to pay Linda a visit as soon as they returned to town.

Even as she turned back to check on the farmer's, they were already packing their day's work onto to their horse carts.

This Sergeant business had to stop.


	9. Chapter 9

"Mari! Haven't seen ya in ages, love! How're the escorts going?"

"Fine, thank you," Mariella replied, eying Linda coldy. It was early afternoon and the tavern had not opened, yet. Linda was just helping to spruce up the bar area before the regulars showed up tonight.

"Have ya seen the new recruits? They just arrived this mornin' from the Highlands!" she said cheerily, polishing a mug. "All the men they send in from Refuge Pointe are s'bloody good-lookin', I can't decide which one I want to sink my teeth into first," she said, with a mischievous grin.

"Your mind is on a single track," Mariella commented, rolling her eyes.

"Can't help it! There's nothing else to do out here and if the cities are parading a bunch o' handsome men through my little town, you bet'cher bottom I'm going to get _my _fun out of it."

"Yes, yes, that's all good, great fun for you," Mariella said, waving her hands dismissively. "But why, in the name of Uther, did you tell my fellow guard members that I and Sergeant Dean are-" Mariella began to blush, "-'sneaking' around?"

Linda looked aghast.

"Mari, I did no such thing!"

"Really, now? Then explain to me why Kennon said you did that very 'thing' this morning when we were on duty together!"

"I didn't say anythin' 'bout you two foolin' around. The boys were just talking about all the arguin' the two o' ya do and I said it's just 'cause you two've got some secret feelin's for one another!"

Mariella fought the urge to ram her own head into the bar-top. Linda could be impossibly thick-headed, at times.

"Linda! How could you?! They've completely misunderstood and now all of the men think I'm some tart trying to jump ranks by jumping my sergeant's bones!" she cried, her temper rising.

"Don't be silly, Mari!" Linda exclaimed. "It's nothing to get worked up about! Besides, maybe word'll get back to Williem and it'll help the both of ya admit to your feelings! You're both so damned stubborn about 'em-"

"Linda, you _must _cease this foolishness! You need to keep your mouth shut and learn your place! All of your ridiculous scheming and fancying is jeopardizing _my _military career! If this goes any further, word of this false fraternization could reach my superiors back in Stormwind and both I _and_ Sergeant Dean could lose our positions in the militia!" Mariella cried, pounding her fists on the bar.

Linda regarded her waspishly. One of the workers who had been sweeping near the door, paused in his work.

"Well, I- how dare you?! Learn my place, shall I? I thought my place was to be your friend but I can see I was mistaken for that! I was only tryin' to help ya along with baggin' a man of your own! You're always so lonely and miserable all the time! With you slouchin' around in your ugly trousers and boots and whatnot, it's certainly a wonder _any _man fancies you!" Linda spat, throwing her rag down on the bar top.

Mariella swelled with fury.

"Why, you- you, harlot!" she shouted.

Linda gasped, her face turning bright red with anger.

"HAG!" she screeched back. It was the guardswoman's turn to gasp.

"You listen now, you great stupid cow! I need absolutely _no _help in finding a man! Especially from a scarlet wench like YOU! Every night it's a different bed and a different wick! All those men want is a squeeze for the night and that's all you'll ever be!"

"I'd rather be that then all alone in my bed wishing a man would even _look _at me! When's the last time you received any male affection, hm?! I can see it now! You won't be anything but an old, lonely spinster! Face it, Mari, you're boring, ugly, and-"

She had gone too far for Mariella.

"That's IT! I've had enough of you! Stay _out _of my personal affairs Linda! Who I associate with in my spare time is no business of yours! And this is the last time I will say this! There is _nothing _between myself and Williem Dean, so stop wagging your damned nosy tongue about it! He is my _sergeant_ and I am his _soldier_! _Nothing more_!" Mariella roared before stomping toward the tavern's entrance. She stormed past the eavesdropping worker, who quickly returned to his sweeping.

Outside, she wandered the streets aimlessly, fuming over her hurt pride and tarnished reputation.

Honestly! Where did that air-headed floozy get off making up such far-fetched assumptions? It was completely stupid! And how _dare_ she insult her like that!

Mariella knew she was certainly no gorgeous aristocratic lady, a lady who breathed class and feminine mannerisms. But, still, she could attract a man if she _wanted _to!

_Of course, I can,_ she told herself, chewing the inside of her cheek angrily. _I just don't have the time!_

She was sent here to protect the town of Southshore, not bounce around the beds of every man here. Mariella was a soldier, which set her far apart from women like Linda and Lorraine. She had duties and honor and rules to uphold.

Reaching down she picked up a large stone in the middle of the muddy road. Shaking off the damp clumps of earth that clung to it, she hurled it in frustration at a watering can perched atop a fence post. She felt better as it collided noisily with the metal object, sending the can flying backward into the little garden surrounding it.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," a voice from behind her said. "You've quite the throwing arm."

Mariella whirled around to find a man, clad in an unfamiliar military tabard. His hair was a dark blonde that shone golden in the sunlight and his face, though very handsome, was unshaven. Even from several feet away, Mariella was captivated by how clear and blue his eyes were.

"Who are you?" she asked rather rudely, but she couldn't care less. The guardswoman was in no mood to be polite. He smirked.

"Forgive me, I'm Laerick Andover. I've just been transferred here from Theramore."

Mariella blinked in surprise.

_Theramore!_

Mariella had always heard of the strict training regimens in Theramore, but she'd never met anyone from there. Almost everyone that came from their units was well disciplined and highly skilled. Mariella would have liked to have trained there herself had it been an option.

"I thought the transfer platoon that arrived today came from Arathi," she replied, eying him skeptically. He chuckled. It wasn't as warm and infectious as Sergeant Dean's but it was still a pleasant sound, nonetheless.

"Aye, it did. But myself and another came from Theramore and grouped up with the new recruits at Refuge Pointe before continuing to Southshore. I assure you, I am not among the initiates that arrived today," he added, rather cockily.

"Ah," was all Mariella said. She glanced around and realized for the first time, that she had meandered to the eastern edge of town. She could just see the roof of the stables peeking over a hilltop.

"You must be Private Wendell."

She snapped her attention back to the haughty newcomer.

"How did you-" then she remembered she was still wearing her gaurdsman armor. Of course, someone must have mentioned the only woman on the Southshore Guard at some point.

"McGuire, I believe, told me of you. You've got quite the reputation, my lady," he said.

Mariella didn't feel the same flattery she had felt when Sergeant Dean had referred to her the same way. Her reputation seemed to be on the rocks these days anyway, so she wasn't sure how to take his comment.

"Yes, well," she said awkwardly. "Can I assist you with anything, Mr. Andover?"

She was somewhat eager to be on her own again.

"Actually, I was just on my way down to the river, to clean up and wash some clothing," he said, motioning to the sack he had slung over his broad shoulder.

Mariella eyed him curiously.

"We have bathing facilities at the barracks, as well as wash basins for your clothes," she replied. "You needn't use such simplistic methods."

Laerick shook his head.

"I was trained for the field. Such 'simplistic methods' have become my ways," he explained simply, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "Well, my lady, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I shall see you at the formation this evening."

"Aye, see you," Mariella said quietly, as she watched him descend the hill toward the river below.

He was a peculiar man. Intriguing, to say the least.


	10. Chapter 10

"Sarge is leavin'?"

"Just for a month. He's going to negotiate possible Dwarvish reinforcements in Ironforge," Greenweld replied, blinking slowly back at all of the troops.

"What in the blue blazes're we s'posed to do without Sarge?" Wilkes called out. "Where's Sarge now? He skip out on us already??"

The formation of guards that stood outside of the barracks had erupted in outrage when the Corporal had announced Sergeant Dean's temporary departure. Greenweld struggled for a moment, calling for silence before someone let out an ear-splitting whistle. Mariella cringed at the high-pitched sound as a man, dressed in the same tabard as Laerick had been earlier, marched to the front of the crowd.

"Listen up, you pack o' brats!" he yelled. Silence fell across the group. The man's head was completely shaven but a thick, red moustache adorned his upper lip and a highly visible scar ran diagonally from his left ear to the bottom of his chin. "I am Sergeant Major Brackwell! This here is Corporal Andover!" he motioned to Laerick who had also moved up to stand slightly behind Brackwell. Mariella noticed that his face was shaven now and his hair was clean and pulled back. "We have been transferred here from Theramore and will remain here as needed! I am to take over for your Sergeant until his return! He leaves in three days, which means all o' you sissies have three days to prance around like foppy, tree-huggin' elves like ya been doin', before I start whippin' yer asses like a pack o' mules, got it?!" he bellowed.

Glancing around, Mariella could tell her fellow guardsman were just as reluctant to take orders from this man as she was. However, they all hollered back a uniform,

"Aye, sergeant major, sir!"

"Well, well, looks like you sorry bunch o' ugly tin-heads got some potential after all!!" he said, with a harsh bark of laughter. "Y'know, your sarge is awful nice to you kids! And your sarge and I," he said, smirking gleefully. "Are nothin' alike! So tough up, boys! I'm gonna run you to the bones this comin' month!"

Staring smugly out over the crowd of troops, his gaze fell on Mariella in the first row.

"And what do we have here??" he asked loudly, marching up to stand before her. He wasn't that tall, actually. He was only several inches taller than Mariella, as opposed to the average foot most were. "We got a _skirt _workin' for us."

He grinned and stared down his nose at her. Mariella wanted to smack the look off his face. However, she had grown used to discrimination by now. She had put up with much abuse about her gender back in her basic training days.

There were some quiet snickers from the section of new recruits. A glare from the Sergeant Major shot them down quick.

"Well, fair maiden, how old are ya?"

"I turn twenty and two this winter, sergeant major, sir," she replied.

"You're awfully young and a mite skinny to be playin' with swords, missy."

Mariella didn't reply but stared straight ahead, determined to prove to the Theramore superior that she was a respectable member of the guard.

"Where'd you train at, little girl? The Refuge? Menethil? All the way in Redridge, maybe?" he asked, almost mockingly.

"No, sir."

"Where, then?"

"Stormwind, sergeant major, sir," she said straightening up a little more as to appear more impressive.

He raised his eyebrows at her, looking mildly shocked for a moment.

"We've got some Stormwind recruits among us, do we?" he called out, gazing across the rows of soldiers. "I wasn't informed of this," he said, turning to look at Corporal Greenweld. Greenweld withered slightly under the general's glare.

"Just her, sir," he mumbled. Brackwell made a sound of displeasure at the dozy-eyed Corporal who winced. Returning his gaze to Mariella, he asked,

"What's your name, girl?"

"Private Mariella Wendell, sir."

"Alright, Wendell, don't think you'll be gettin' an easy pass on work just 'cause you're a pair o' tits from the Stormwind brigade," he growled, jabbing a finger at her shoulder. "Though I'm sure you've got some pretty good tricks up your sleeve to graduate from their ranks... You're hard up to earn my respect just like the rest o' the boys," he said before moving off to harass his next victim. However, his tone didn't hold the same condescendence it had moments ago.

Mariella caught Laerick's eye briefly. He gave her a half-smile and an encouraging nod. She smiled to herself. She knew it, too. The sergeant major was impressed by her training roots.


	11. Chapter 11

The day had dawned dark and gloomy, the clouds sagging ominously from the sky and the trees bowing deeply in the oddly-warm winds. Storm shutters banged and little cyclones of dried leaves whirled through the nearly-deserted streets of Southshore. A stray cat darted across the road and disappeared into a cluster of bushes.

Mariella glanced up at the sky, the wind whipping her hair over her face. A distant grumble of thunder rolled across the hills and rooftops like approaching war drums.

"It's going to be a big one," she commented, pulling her helmet over her head. Kennon shrugged.

"S'alrigh'. Never minded the rain too much."

Mariella grinned in spite of herself. It was always sunny skies for Kennon. As much as she hated to admit it, the lazy arse had sort of grown on her during their few weeks together. Lightning ignited the sky, followed closely by another ripple of thunder.

By the time the escort group had set out from the town, fat raindrops had begun to pelt them and the surrounding hills. They forged on, though, determined to at least make it to the settlement at the fields before seeking shelter.

But just ten minutes into the daily trek, the downpour began.

Rain pattered hollowly off of Mariella's helm, a few renegade drops sprinkling down her face and dripping beneath her collar. The downpour was so heavy she could hardly see up ahead. The group stopped a minute under a small canopy of trees, but the young foliage hardly offered proper sanctuary from the elements.

"Perhaps, we should turn back!" one of the farmers called over the roar of the rain.

Mariella was about to reply, but nearly jumped out of her skin when a deafening crack of thunder split the air. Almost simultaneously, a ribbon of lightning laced the clouds and lit the hills like broad daylight.

Beads of adrenaline burst inside of Mariella and rocketed through her limbs when she caught a glimpse of the landscape. There were dark shapes everywhere.

She stood stock still, her brain trying to register what she had just seen.

She quickly glanced at Kennon. He looked more serious than she had ever seen him. Her heart rate picked up. He had seen it, too.

The winds had died down and now the rain fell in straight curtains. The only sound was the torrents pounding the earth and the trees. Lightning flashed and the thunder growled like an unseen beast in the darkness. She saw nothing this time but trees and empty fields.

"We should go back," she said to Kennon. His gaze was fixated on something in the distance. Mariella stared in the same direction but saw nothing except for endless sheets of falling water. "Kennon," she said, a little louder in case he hadn't heard her the first time. "We should-"

He held up a hand to silence her, the other straying to the broad sword at his back. Mariella's heart was beating a mile a minute.

"Get ready," was all he said.

"W-why? What is it? I don't s-" she started, squinting hard through the rain.

Kennon drew his sword.

"It's an ambush."


	12. Chapter 12

**Quick Author's Note:  
I know this chapter is a little messy. I apologize if the descriptions come across confusing. I did my best to make it understandable. I've had this chapter typed up for ages but I've been trying to fix it for so long. Honestly, I'm just tired of revising it and I'm still not satisfied, so, here it is: Chapter 12! Now I can finally move one with getting the rest of the story posted, ha.**

**-CPop.**

At least a dozen figures dressed in black sprung from the darkness.

The orange masks tied across their faces were a dead giveaway. They were Syndicate.

The horses spooked, bucking and whinnying wildly in their constraints as the dark-clad assassins darted between them. The farmers yelled and ran about, some trying to control the horses, others trying to defend the carts. One of the ambushers leapt on Kennon and bowled him over. He let out a shout as he went down.

Mariella drew her swords and moved forward but another of the thieves jumped in her path and engaged her. She could only hope that Kennon could hold his own as she dodged and parried blow after blow.

At last, she cut her opponent down only to have two more come at her. As one of them lunged, Kennon came from the side, slicing deeply into the other with his enormous blade. The thief went down screeching in agony, his rib cage torn asunder. Mariella continued to battle her attacker while Kennon fought off another that had cornered another of the men. At last, her opponent fell and she again moved to assist Kennon.

"There's too many!" he shouted as Mariella came up to his side. Even as he said it, a dozen more enemies seemed to spill out of the storm.

Immediately, Mariella spun around and seized one of the farmers by the wrist.

"Listen to me!" she shouted over the cacophony of the rain and thunder. "Ride back to town and alert the Sergeant! Tell him we need reinforcements at the western fork, _now_!"

The man looked petrified but he nodded. Quickly, Mariella hacked at the straps tethering the nearest frightened horse to its cart. Grabbing it by the reigns, she steadied it long enough for the man to mount. At once, he took off galloping in the direction of Southshore.

Returning to the fray, she began to slash away at the ambushers, the hope of Sergeant Dean's arrival bestowing her a fresh wave of courage.

Suddenly, a shock of pain pierced her right arm. Crying out, she swung to the right, crushing an enemy's face in with the heavy hilt of her sword. The thief fell backward and lay motionless on the sodden grass.

Glancing down she found that a dagger protruded from her upper arm. With a roar of pain, she tore it free. The split muscle throbbed agonizingly but she dove back into combat, throwing the dagger at a thief advancing on one of the men. The dagger embedded itself in the thief's throat and blood spurted from the critical wound and showered the farmer. He screeched and threw his hands over his head.

One thief, two thieves, three more syndicate fell by her blades. Kennon was bringing them down two at a time but they still kept coming. Mariella could feel herself slowing. Her reflexes were becoming sluggish and her breathing was harsh. Here and there, she would get nicked by blades in the weak spots of her armor. Six, seven, eight thieves. She was suffering blood loss: she could feel it in her light-headedness and the sensation that her right arm was slowly turning to jelly.

How long had it been?

Where was the Sergeant? Were they coming? What if the messenger never made it back to town?

Suddenly, she heard Kennon holler in pain and she feared the worst. Spinning around, she searched the fray frantically. It was chaos: bodies everywhere, supplies scattering the flooded landscape. The thunder and pounding rain roared in her ears. Her heart hammered in her throat as her eyes swept the field for any sign of her brother-in-arms.

Then, she found him. A short-sword protruded from his mid-section.

Time ceased.

In a split-second of horror, she watched as her partner dropped to his knees, gripping the hilt of the blade buried fatally in his organs.

"Kennon!" she screeched. Ripping off her helm, she charged the killer. The assassin was standing over her fallen comrade, still taking in his moment of victory when Mariella smashed into him. She ran both of her blades deep into his gut. The man's eyes bulged and she could see the dark stain of blood pouring from his hidden mouth and down his throat. Savagely, she tore her swords from his body and stepped back, letting him hit the ground where he writhed and convulsed in the mud. After a moment of cruel pleasure, she turned away from the dying man. Sighting Kennon's crumpled figure on the grass just a few feet away, she struggled toward him.

_No, no, he's alright,_ she tried to convince herself. She just had to get to him. The guardswoman refused to believe the grim truth until she felt his still pulse, heard his silent heart and empty lungs. But she never found out, she never got there.

Another opponent came at her, wielding a deadly-looking Morningstar. He swung and Mariella tried to dodge, but another attacker came from the side. The mace struck her powerfully in the stomach as she parried the second attacker's assault. She hit the ground hard, all the breath leaving her lungs. The fingers of blackness groped at the edges of her vision as she struggled to keep consciousness. Her abdomen throbbed in agony, feeling as though her stomach had just been ripped clear out of her body.

Both attackers advanced on her. Throwing herself to the left, she slashed at one of the thieves, the Morningstar biting deep into the mud where her head had been seconds before. At last, her blade cut into the ankle of the second attacker, a female, and she fell, but the mace-wielder moved above Mariella, his weapon held high. She stared up at him, her world rocking sickeningly as she blinked rain out of her eyes. There was shouting and pounding rain. The sky beyond the assassin's head was a great black maw, ready to swallow up the young soldier forever. Strangely enough, she thought she heard her name.

Just when everything seemed lost to Mariella, an enormous figure came barreling out of nowhere. Everything happened so fast, it took a moment for her to understand in her battered state.

There was a lethal-sounding crunch as the hurtling figure collided with the unsuspecting Syndicate. They flew out of the disoriented guardswoman's range of vision and she rolled over in the grass. Her body screamed in protest but she pushed herself up just enough to search the battlefield.

Where was Kennon? She must find him!

Numerous figures came thundering past her except they weren't wearing all black and hiding behind orange masks. Their tabards bore Southshore's coat of arms and their shining armor was a stark contrast to the blackness the storm had spawned.

Struggling to her feet, she began to hobble in the direction she thought Kennon had fallen but the world was spinning too fast for her.

Attempting to steady herself, she looked at her feet, placing one foot painstakingly in front of the other. Then, she realized the grass was getting closer and closer.

She was falling, falling. And she couldn't do a thing about it.

But then, a strong arm caught her.

"Mariella!" a familiar voice shouted from far away. Very far away.

"Kennon," she murmured, her eyes suddenly flooding with tears. "Kennon's dead."

And she fell face first into the black and silence.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hiii. I'm back! Sorry for the HUGE delay! Been busybusybusy. Anyway, a bit of a glimpse into Mari's past for ya! I'm not 100% happy with these next two chapters, but I can't keep you lovelies waiting any longer! That's just mean. :) Thanks for all the support in my absence, by the way. I was shocked to see how many people wanted this story to continue so badly! Many 3's to all of my readers! Thank you, thank you! -CPop.**

_Mariella held the little wooden pendant close to her chest as she ran. She was so excited. She just knew her father would love it!_

_The Wendell homestead came into view._

_She greeted the cows and the chickens and the curious horses that watched her as she stampeded past them. Throwing open the front door to the small cottage, she began to call for her father._

_At last, she found him in the bedroom he shared with her mother._

"_Look, papa! Look what I've made for you!" she cried, nearly bursting with joy and pride as she held out her cupped palms, the pendant cradled in the center of them. "I carved it all by myself to look just like the Stormwind emblem! I made it just for you, papa!"_

_Her father stared at it wordlessly. Mariella's mother entered the room, carrying a stack of linens._

"_Oh, that's beautiful, Mari-bell! Isn't it just lovely, Samuel? Our daughter has such talent," she said coming to stand by her father and survey the pendant._

_Samuel let out a low, indifferent grunt and turned back to his desk. Picking up his quill, he resumed his letter-writing without a word._

_Crushed, Mariella lowered her hands, squeezing the pendant hard in her palm, as if she willed it to disappear into itself. Her mother could clearly see the hurt in her daughter's face._

"_Mari..."she said softly, moving forward. Before her mother could say anything, Mariella was out of the door, running faster than she ever had._

_Running and running and running until she reached the lake. Splashing in up to her knees, she threw the pendant with all her might._

---

"I refuse to leave! We can send an ambassador in my place! My men need me here. Southshore needs me here!"

"Magni Bronzebeard specifically demanded that you come, Dean! If we send anyone else in your place, they will be turned back!"

"Then we will postpone the negotiations. I'm not abandoning my post at a time like this."

"You think it wise to keep the king of Ironforge waiting?"

"Listen, magistrate, I lost a good man out there! And I nearly lost another of my most valued soldiers. I do not intend to leave until she is well or at least until she is stable."

"I completely advise against this, Dean! You are putting hold on negotiations just so you can sit by the bed of an injured woman! I don't know what this soft spot you are nursing for this wench is but it must be put to an end!!"

The sound of tin bowls hitting the floor and glass shattering filled Mariella's ears and she stirred slightly. There was a gurgling sound and a woman screeched.

"Sergeant Dean, NO!! Put him down! Sergeant I must remind you that this is an infirmary- Sergeant, you're choking him!!"

"How dare you insult her!! And how dare you question _my motives_, you miserable old fool! I care for my soldiers and the people of this town far more than I care about Magni! He's sitting high and mighty on a comfortable throne right now and a week from now I can guarantee he'll be doing _exactly _the same thing! The negotiations can wait a few more days just as his royal highness can!"

"Sergeant, PLEASE! Let him down!!"

---

"_Mari! Come here! Your cousin Dorian is here!"_

_Mariella peeked shyly around her mother's leg at the gangly little boy standing in her yard._

_Her mother and Aunt Dora disappeared into the house and Mariella was left on her own with him._

"_Do you want to come feed the chickens with me?" she asked tentatively after a moment._

_Dorian shrugged, looking bored. Dorian and his mother and father lived in Stormwind City and were much more well-off than the Wendell's and their small farm just outside of Goldshire._

_Five minutes later, Mariella was scattering grain and dried corn kernels on the ground. The chickens clucked excitedly and hobbled around her feet, pecking at the meal sprinkled over the damp earth. She giggled at their antics._

"_I know why your papa hates you so much," Dorian said suddenly._

_Mariella frowned at him._

"_My papa doesn't hate me," she replied defensively, turning her back on him._

"_Yes, he does. My mama says Uncle Samuel barely even looks at you!" he called after her._

_Swallowing hard, she began to walk a little faster._

_But Dorian hurried after her._

"_He won't even say your name! You're just some little girl. He's practically disowned you."_

_Mariella began to throw the grain and kernels a little more forcefully than before._

"_That's why he hates you so much, you know. Because you're a girl," Dorian said triumphantly._

_Mariella nearly dropped the bag of feed in her hands, spilling half of its contents across the ground. The chickens went into a frenzy._

_Her cheeks burned with shame, feeling as though she'd just been slapped in the face by his harsh words._

"_Uncle Samuel wanted a son. A boy, like me! A boy that could bring honor and pride to his family. But, he got stuck with you. A _girl_," he said with such disgust, she may as well have been a squished bug on his dinner plate._

"_Not true!!" she screeched suddenly, whirling around to face him. Dorian laughed, obviously enjoying her anguish._

"_Uncle Samuel hates you! He hates you! He hates you!" he chanted, sticking his tongue out at her._

"_No! No! No!" Mariella shrieked over and over, collapsing into the dirt. She wasn't sure when or how it had happened, but she was crying. She could feel the tears wet on her face as she screamed._

_She heard her mother's voice and her aunt yelling at Dorian._

_But Mariella's already fragile heart was broken._

_It was true._

_Her father couldn't stand the sight of her._

_---_

Mariella blinked slowly.

There was a candle burning on the nightstand beside her. The curtains were open. A full moon illuminated the room with a soft, unearthly glow.

Williem Dean was sitting in a chair in the corner. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and his head lulled slightly to one side. He had dozed off.

The moonlight splashed across one half of his handsome face, the remaining half sheathed in shadow.

_You are always here._

She smiled and nodded off again.

---

"_I'm joining the Stormwind Guard, papa," Mariella said, setting down her fork._

_Samuel only grunted and continued eating._

"_Don't you have anything to say, papa?" she asked, gritting her teeth._

"_Why bother? You'll only fail," he replied finally. Mariella clenched her fists._

"_You don't know that!"_

"_Only truly skillful warriors can make it through their training! What makes you think you can handle it?" he barked._

"_What makes you think I can't?! You never give me a chance, dammit!" she cried, slamming her fists on the table. The fork on her plate clattered noisily._

_Samuel looked upon his grown daughter with such intensity that Mariella recoiled slightly._

"_Don't do it! If you enter the training and fail, you'll only bring more shame upon this family! Just leave it well enough alone!" he said, throwing down his fork and napkin and stalking out of the room._

"_I'm joining! And I'm going to finish training! I'll be top of the regimen, you just wait and see!" she yelled at his retreating figure._

_The bedroom door slammed._

_Letting out a growl of frustration, Mariella seized her glass of water and threw it against the wall. It exploded into a hundred crystalline shards._


	14. Chapter 14

Birds chirped prettily outside somewhere. Mariella smiled before she even opened her eyes.

Cracking a lid open, she found that sunlight flooded the room. It was an unfamiliar room. It appeared to be private quarters in the sick bay.

Turning to face the window, she let out a small gasp of surprise. Sergeant Dean was sitting in a chair beneath it, his face in his hands. She watched him quietly for a moment, not wanting to destroy his fragile momentary peace. When at last, she felt she could not pretend to be asleep any longer, she spoke.

"Sergeant..." she whispered. Her voice was weak and dry. His head snapped up at the sound of her voice. He looked so worn and distressed that, if she could have, Mariella would have held him in her arms.

When he realized he wasn't imagining things, his face broke into an enormously relieved smile. Immediately, he came to her bedside.

"Mariella, how do you fare?" he asked, smoothing back the hairs that clung to her face. She thought for a moment. She realized she actually did not feel much at all. She felt strangely disengaged from her body.

"I feel... nothing," she said finally. "What happened to me?"

Williem nodded, though he was still smiling.

"Nurse Constance said you might feel funny for awhile. They used many different potions and remedies on you to mend your broken ribs and the knife wound."

Mariella nodded slowly, but something else had bubbled to the surface of her mind.

"Where's Kennon?"

The smile faded from Williem's face.

"He... didn't make it."

Silence ensued for several moments as the tragic news sunk in. The guardswoman admitted to herself that she wasn't shocked. Even out on the field, remembering the sight of him as he fell, she had known all along. However, this did little to lessen the blow.

Mariella turned away to hide the tears gathering in her lower lids. Though she fought hard to keep them in, they spilled over anyway.

"It's my fault. I should have... I should have been more alert..." she murmured, a fresh wave of tears blazing watery trails down her cheeks.

"Don't blame yourself, Mariella."

"I should've- there had to have been something- anything- that I could have done to-to-" she stammered, her voice cracking as she took in great gulps of breath to steady her emotions.

A strong, rough hand gripped her own trembling one, squeezing it tightly.

"Do not blame yourself for this, Mariella. Trust me, it will not do to burden yourself with misplaced guilt. Take it from one who has fought many battles alongside many great men who also fell. I spent almost two years living inside of a bottle, trying to drown my sorrows in the strongest spirits I could find. But there comes a point when you must learn to accept what is lost and instead, honor their memory with strength," Williem said, his low, smooth voice soothing to the battered soldier.

She was quiet for a long while, contemplating his words and the strange chain of events that had unfolded.

Warmth radiated from their interlocked hands and spread up her arms and throughout her body, restoring a little bit of the life within her.

Reaching out, the sergeant gently turned her face to look at him. Wiping away the last few tears that streaked her face, he said quietly,

"If you wish, I can take you to his burial site, so you may pay your last respects to him."

Mariella shook her head.

"I don't think I'm ready for that, yet."

Williem nodded slowly, gripping her small hand a little tighter. A thought occurred to her, then. If Kennon had already been buried, it would have required more than a day or so for the ceremony and the burial process to have taken place.

"How long have I been asleep, sir?" she asked slowly, wiping the remaining dampness from her cheeks with the sleeve of her sleeping gown.

"You've been drifting in and out for five days, now," he replied.

Mariella lay there in shock. Five _days_??

_Wait a moment_...

"But, sir... you were supposed to have left already!" she exclaimed. Williem smiled wanly.

"Believe me, I know," he said, his expression growing suddenly dark. But, a moment later, his face softened again as he gazed upon her. "I couldn't leave without knowing you were well on your way to recovery."

Mariella smiled gently at him.

They watched each other in silence. Mariella searched his pale blue eyes intently. There was so much to see within their depths. His eyes were so enthralling and expressive... she felt herself drifting away into his encompassing gaze with each passing second. An odd sensation of pure joy and fulfillment seemed to be pouring into her the longer she stared. Mariella felt lighter than she had in ages. And suddenly a spark rent the air, a wonderful web of ethereal communication being spun between their interlocked eyes. Mariella could almost see and hear the electricity crackling in the air around them. Some force of magnetism seemed to be drawing the pair closer and closer.

Their clasped hands shifted to interlace their fingers and suddenly, that simple connection of bare flesh burned fiery hot to Mariella and she felt her breath hitch as Williem's nose brushed hers and his free hand rose to caress her cheek. Their faces were mere centimeters apart; her heart was beating so fast she thought maybe it would explode. Sensations flowed throughout every inch of her. Her body was alive.

Then, voices outside the door broke the spell. His hands were gone and the sergeant was on his feet in a flash. The door flew open and two guards walked in.

It was McGuire and another guard, named Bissell. They looked surprised to see the sergeant.

"Oi, Sarge!" McGuire said, saluting him crisply. Bissell did the same.

"At ease, gentleman," he said calmly.

Mariella stared at him in wonder. She was anything but calm at the moment.

She struggled to regain control of her reeling mind, trying to grasp the startling situation that had just ensued.

She had been imagining things. She and Sergeant Dean had not been about to... No, no. She was hallucinating from all those alchemic remedies the nurses had used. The idea was preposterous and highly-embarrassing to Mariella. In fact, she could feel her cheeks growing warm already as she thought of the silly idea of her and the sergeant kissing.

Mariella was barely aware of the light conversation taking place between the men in the room.

"...just stoppin' in to check on Wendy here," McGuire replied, motioning to Mariella. "Glad t' see yer awake, Mari," he said with a genuine grin.

Mariella managed to smile back amidst her internal chaos.

"Yes, she came to only twenty or so minutes prior to your arrival," Williem said, giving Mariella a gentle smile. "I think it would be best if we let her alone for a little bit... Let her sort things out in her head before we bombard her with celebratory hugs from the entire unit."

Sergeant Dean threw her a playful wink before shuffling the other two guards out of the room with him.

Mariella lay still for awhile. The numbness had returned to her body, but it had nothing to do with medicinal substances this time.

She kept reliving the moment over and over in her head, and each time, the scenario became less and less real, and soon, she had convinced herself it was nothing but her imagination running rampant.

It was silly, after all. Why would Sergeant Dean kiss her? He was in love with the gorgeous Lady Lorraine! Also, Mariella probably looked a frightful mess right now, thrashing around feverishly in bed for nearly a week. No one would even think to court her in such a state.

Yet... Sergeant Dean did. She remembered the way his strong, rough hand had held hers so reassuringly and tightly and how tenderly he had brushed the hair from her eyes...

No! It was ridiculous.

_Stop pretending, Mari. There is nothing._

One of the nurses, Connie, bustled in. She was carrying a tray of food. The scent of breakfast cakes and fruit wafted over to Mariella and she nearly heaved.

"The Sergeant told me you were awake, Miss Mari!" she said cheerily. "Breakfast time!"


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: These next two are a bit short, sorry about that! Anyway, I've had to alter the plot a bit to keep it going in the direction that I want. So the next few chapters need to be rewritten. Just giving you a heads up on the delay this time! Thanks to all my lovely readers! :) -CPop.**

Three more days passed before Mariella was permitted to rise from bed. The day she had chosen to strolls the streets of Southshore again couldn't have been a prettier one.

The skies seemed bluer and the grasses were greener, and everywhere she looked there was a colorful bird twittering or a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed squirrel scuttling around tree limbs. Great white cotton balls of cloud drifted lazily in the endless pool of blazing blue that was the sky. For some reason, they reminded her of Kennon and even still, this thought did not dampen her spirits.

However, what she saw next, gave her high spirits a run for their money.

Sergeant Dean was standing beside his noble, chestnut mare, Loxi. Her saddle bags were packed full and a small crowd was gathered around the caravan that was to leave for Ironforge, as well.

Lady Lorraine, draped in a delicate dress of soft pink, was standing before him, a silk kercheif clutched in her dainty gloved hands. As she watched, Lorraine let out a sob, audible even to Mariella who stood almost twenty feet away. The Sergeant looked surprised and somewhat baffled for a moment before pulling the weeping maiden into his arms. They were exchanging words but they were too soft spoken to carry on the breeze to Mariella's eavesdropping ears.

Her stomach churned violently as they suddenly shared a long kiss. Feeling strange and intrusive for watching, Mariella was about to turn away when the Sergeant released his lady and turned to mount Loxi. In doing so, his eye caught Mariella's.

The guardswoman froze, feeling like a deer that had just been sighted by a hunter. To her utter dismay, he removed his foot from the stirrup and began to come toward her.

She stood rooted to the spot, feeling as if she were an eight-year-old on the Wendell farm again, wondering if she should flee. Her theory as a child had always been that, perhaps if she ran far and fast enough, her unwanted feelings would never catch her.

He came to stand directly in front of her. He was so tall. Mariella hardly came up to his chin.

"I won't be gone long, Mariella," he said, his blue eyes burning intensely into her own amber ones. "Take care of yourself, aye?"

Mariella swallowed hard.

"Aye, sir," she said softly.

"That's an order," he said with a ghost of a smile, reminding her of their encounter on the beaches so many months ago. She smiled weakly back.

"I expect to find you in one piece and fully recovered upon my return," he said, reaching forward and squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. "I need you here with me."

With one last blazing look, he turned away, leaving Mariella to contemplate all of the possible meanings of his parting words.

Watching Sergeant Dean's retreating back, Mariella caught sight of Lady Lorraine.

If looks could kill, Mariella was sure she would be back in the hospital wing right at that very moment.


	16. Chapter 16

Daisies.

Simple, cheerful, and liked by nearly all.

Daisies were like Kennon. At least, that's what Mariella had thought when she purchased a small bunch of them from the town florist.

She ran her fingers over the delicate little petals as she stared down at the gravestone before her.

_Kenneth Willoughby Kennon.  
__Honored Member of the Southshore Guard.  
__Twenty and four years of age. A ray of sunshine in the lives of all who knew him, right up until the very end.  
May the Light carry his brave and honorable soul to rest in everlasting peace._

Mariella's palms were sweating as she knelt before the stone. Her eyes, however, were dry. She had spent the remainder of her bed-ridden nights crying them tearless in private. She was certain there wasn't a teardrop left in her by now.

"I'm sorry I was so hard on you," she whispered. 'Deep down, I think I was only bitter and envious of your ability to be so free of inhibitions."

A breeze picked up, slipping beneath the thin fabric of her tunic. Her hair was down for a change, drifting softly around her face and tickling her nose.

"I wish... things had gone differently, but... I suppose you're somewhere nicer, now. Though, I would've liked to have taken you to the city some day. I would've shown you all around Stormwind..." she said, an unexpected giggle escaping her lips as she imagined his awe of 'the big city'.

She felt the moisture beginning to well in her eyes and she knew her assumption from moments ago had been mistaken.

Knowing that, if she continued to speak, her emotions would only take over, Mariella instead sat in silence for a long time. She listened to the birds and the rush of water from the river below. The sun warmed her back while the wafting mountain breeze cooled her face.

"He was a good friend of yours?"

Mariella recognized the voice of Laerick. He had a tinge of an accent she couldn't quite place.

She let out a dry chuckle.

"Something like that."

His legs moved into view at the corner of her vision as he came to stand beside her. "You sneak up on me often, corporal," she added, still gazing at Kennon's tombstone.

"You have my apologies, miss," he replied. "I only wondered what maiden was out here alone."

Mariella nodded and shifted her gaze to the daisies clutched between her hands. The breeze caught a few petals and sent them dancing away across the grass.

"I feel terrible," she said, finally. "I cannot stop thinking about... that day. What I could have done..."

Laerick was quiet for a moment.

"Your sergeant informed me that it was your first time engaging in field combat. It is a powerful experience. Your first battle can either empower you or destroy you as a soldier," Laerick replied quietly. "It is, indeed, a tragic occurence to have lost a partner amidst your first enemy encounter. But you fought bravely, both of you did. And the loss of your partner was through no fault of your own, my lady."

_Empower you or destroy you._

Mariella was always broken as a child. At some point, she had grown tired of giving into defeat and misery. She had wanted to be steady as stone.

Fragility was in her past now.

"Come, I'll buy you a drink at the pub."

Mariella shook her head, remembering Sergeant Dean's speech about drowning sorrows.

"I had better not."

"Would you prefer that I leave you be then, my lady?"

The guardswoman didn't answer at first.

Leaning forward, she placed the bunch of daisies at the base of Kennon's tombstone. The little white flowers stood out brightly against the dark rough stone.

At last, she turned to look up at her new Corporal.

He looked impressive, standing so tall above her. Almost angelic, with his golden hair blowing in the breeze and eyes like the sky. She considered his question.

"No," she said at last.

He smiled and offered her a hand.


End file.
